


This Is How This Night Is Going to Go

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Sehnsucht Era, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Following the hectic evening of being followed around by documenting cameras, Paul and Schneider find some privacy away from the others. Paul doesn't really appreciate what he pulled earlier at the party.





	This Is How This Night Is Going to Go

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired and based on [this infamous gif](https://78.media.tumblr.com/e0e1edd7a66fe6f96ebf18c1e636992a/tumblr_panhbbQ0hw1rvajymo2_250.gif). I was staring at it yesterday and decided I wanted to expand on it lmao
> 
> I can't really tell what hair Paul has in that footage, since his hair changes a thousand times during Sehnsucht era, but I'm assuming it's [this hairstyle](https://78.media.tumblr.com/00a1b2e033a5c416c3754d36e4b6ba05/tumblr_panhbbQ0hw1rvajymo1_540.png), just swept back into a beanie. 
> 
> Anyways, uh, fictional scenario and all that. I think these two are cute together, can't help that my mind jumps ahead to something else.

It was never meant to go anywhere. Just a joke, simply fucking around, which had been exacerbated by his intoxication and the cameras pointed their way. Paul had responded calmly, just stepped to the side while working the remaining drywall out of his mouth—the lack of a response made Schneider feel awkward and stupid for pulling that.

And now hours later, when the divided pairs of people spread out to create their own versions of the energetic night, Schneider is being shoved back against the hotel door that had swung shut behind them only a moment before. Paul is in his face, still wild and grinning shark-like from the coke they had taken not too long ago. Schneider is smiling thinly, eyes lidded and challenging. He holds his hands up, open-palmed and surrendering.

“You’re a real dick sometimes,” Paul snarls—there’s burning fire in his eyes, an eagerness for a fight, maybe, though there is no bite in his tone. With the fistful he has of Schneider’s navy blue button-up, he jerks him against the door and tilts his head back, looking up at the taller man with his grin softening to a pursed smirk.

“And a goddamn tease. Pulling that shit in front of the cameras.”

“I’m sure you would’ve responded differently if not for that,” Schneider remarks, bringing a big hand up to wrap it around Paul’s wrist, fingers curling into the sleeve of his black turtleneck, “I was giving them something worthwhile to film, but you just ignored it. Real smooth. Great material for them. Although, I’m sure you thought eating the ceiling was a hit.”

A joke, obviously—Schneider only did such a thing because he’s a little more outgoing when high _and_ drunk. No way would he have done it if he were sober, cameras or not. Paul snorts and rolls his eyes. He lets Schneider go and crosses his arms.

“Well, it sure seemed to turn you on, _apparently.”_

“Oh, yeah. Watching you eat drywall gets me going, Paul.”

Schneider fixes his twisted shirt. Paul says nothing, he just continues smiling thinly, boyish face bearing a look of _I know you, and what you’re up to_. Schneider bears innocence as he runs his fingers up through his long, unkempt bangs. Paul reaches up to slide off his red beanie—he tosses it onto the dresser of the hotel room. _Paul’s_ hotel room; his suitcase is open on the floor, clothes haphazardly piled within it, and around it. Paul is a somewhat tidy person, but he always was a slob when it came to clothing.

Now lacking the beanie, revealed to him is Paul’s messy, slightly long hair which curled cutely behind his ears. Some locks fell across his forehead. Paul reaches up to fix it, staring up at Schneider still, but the other man beats him to it. Raising both hands, Schneider rakes his long fingers through Paul’s locks, brushing back his haphazard bangs. He curls his fingers around his scalp, to run them through the locks which curled under his ears. Schneider thumbs at his earlobes, against the sleek silver gauges. Paul grins broadly, his laugh lines and dimples becoming prominent—rather than burning with fire, his eyes are now twinkling with fondness.

“You’re so touchy when you’re drunk,” Paul muses, tilting his head into Schneider’s hand. Schneider shakily cups the side of his face, shy fingers skittering across his jaw and ear, his face heating and eyes hardening. Paul’s grin softens into an understanding smile when he sees the expression on Schneider’s pretty face.

None too gently, Paul hooks a confident hand around his shoulder; slides it over the collar of his shirt to cup the back of his neck, fingers running up into his curls. Paul looks up at him with a sly smile and eyes which consume him through gaze alone. Schneider swallows hard.

Paul doesn’t initiate it; he just waits, watching the other man. Schneider has to gather his courage, seemingly lacking now that it’s just the two of them and they’re not fucking around anymore. But they might be, very soon. That convinces him to lean in, to gingerly, cautiously press his lips to Paul’s. Paul’s skin smells like makeup remover and lip gloss left behind by the girls.

The kiss is slow and exploratory at first. Paul’s hand slowly sweeps down from his hair, around to the front of his throat. Schneider shudders—he feels his callouses brush against his skin. Their lips purse together in a calm back and forth, an intimate sharing of their mouths that doesn’t intensify. They’ve yet to really gain complete understanding of _this,_ of where their comfort stands. They’ve only done _this_ as many times as he can count on one hand, ever since they met in the ‘80’s. So the kiss remains gentle, unsure, withheld. Even if it’s not intense, it still flusters Schneider. Heat curls in his face, builds in the tips of his ears. His hand continues holding the side of Paul’s face.

Schneider is the first to pull away. He gives Paul a departing, firm purse of his lips and then leans back to meet his gaze. Paul looks up at him with that ever-present smile. His eyes are still affectionate, but now they’re mischievous, too. Paul removes his hand from Schneider’s throat to instead grip his broad hand. He arches a brow at him and his smile becomes a grin.

“Well, come on, then,” Paul says, “I won’t let this night become boring.”

 

They collapse onto the bed with a bounce—Paul’s forehead knocks into Schneider’s jaw, _hard,_ when they land. Schneider momentarily forgets he’s supposed to be sexy. He curses and rolls off of the smaller man, clutching at his jaw as he reels. That didn’t feel good. Paul laughs and immediately gets up to crawl over him. He grabs Schneider’s wrist and pins it to the bed. World spinning (not only because of the drugs still coursing in his veins), Schneider blearily peers up at him, his eyes squinting and long locks flipped up against the sheets. Paul is grinning, flushed, with his eyes wide.

“Oh, nurse your wounds later,” he teases, the skin on the bridge of his nose wrinkling as his grin becomes laughter. Schneider huffs. He props up on an elbow and looks up at Paul, slowly blinking. Witnessing Paul like this—wearing a tight turtleneck that is unintentionally cute on him, an energetic grin on his face, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide, kneeling over Schneider’s lower half—has Schneider smiling himself. Paul releases his wrist to cup both of his cheeks in his hands. He leans in over him, back curling and head angling, to kiss him with more hunger this time.

Schneider makes a slight noise against his mouth, eyes rolling shut, one hand raising to hover over Paul’s shoulder. Paul mashes his lips mindlessly against Schneider’s as he curls impossibly closer, one hand slipping beyond Schneider’s cheek to bury in his dark curls.

The sounds of their wet kissing fills the hotel room, joined by the distant sound of conversation in the hallway and the rumble of cars outside. Schneider is panting amongst the grinding of their mouths, and he tries to tame it, but it’s of no use—Paul makes him utterly breathless. His hand finally settles on Paul’s shoulder, slides around to rest on his shoulder blade.

The intensity of Paul’s kissing has his teeth catching on Schneider’s lips, his nose pushing firmly against his cheek, his developing stubble rubbing against his chin. It’s overwhelming and it has Schneider beginning to pull away, solely because he’s breathless and he’s worried Paul is going to make him pass out. Paul notices and catches his bottom lip between his teeth before he could withdraw completely—he ends up dragging his lip between his teeth before pulling away with a rather embarrassing wet noise. Schneider’s head collapses back into the bed. He has a knit brow and an agape mouth, his thin lips red and swollen. Panting, he licks his lips and searches Paul’s face.

Paul isn’t looking particularly composed himself: his cheeks are red, his eyes lidded, lips wet and kissed, hair falling across his forehead. God, he’s so damn cute sometimes, and Schneider hates to think of a man that way. Especially Paul.

“Will you let me do whatever I want to you, Schneider?” Paul asks in a breathless whisper, searching his widened blue eyes with a slow, sly grin growing on his boyish face. Schneider pauses, and then huffs a laugh. He appreciates the check for consent, at least.

“As long as you don’t stick anything up my ass, yeah,” he murmurs, his smooth voice deep and rumbling, eyes lidded and welcoming. Schneider likes Paul partially because of _this:_ he’s commanding and knows what he wants, and will do what it takes to get it as long as all parties are willing. Schneider doesn’t have to force anything, doesn’t have to put in any effort unless Paul makes him.

“Good,” Paul grunts as he hoists himself up off the other man, and immediately crawls back to yank off Schneider’s shoes, “I’m not in the mood to dance around it tonight.”

“How charming,” Schneider says, rising up on his elbow to watch Paul impatiently undress him. He then sits up and bats the other man away, who looks irritated as Schneider snaps, “I can undress myself!”

“Then hurry up!” Paul remarks, sitting back on his knees with his arms crossed. Schneider obeys; he yanks off his socks and then leans back on an elbow while raising his hips to pull down his track pants. Paul helps him by yanking them down his legs and off his body—Schneider presses his lips together, unamused, but lets him get away with it. Raising his hands, he quickly works down his short-sleeved button-up shirt, getting it open and off, followed by the undershirt, leaving his slender torso bare. He tosses both articles of clothing on the floor. Then, surprising him, Paul moves to straddle one of his legs, hands swimming up over his lean thighs to clutch at his briefs and wiggle them down his hips. A burst of heat blooms in Schneider’s face as he raises his hips for him to do so.

Paul seems to zero in on his goal as soon as Schneider’s half-hard cock is exposed, flipping up to rest against his heaving belly. He leaves his briefs around his thighs and immediately cups his hand around his shaft. He leans in, back curling and head dipping, to take it into his mouth, without much warning at all—Schneider’s hips reflexively jerk back into the bed as he gasps sharply, unintentionally. Paul hums around him and drags his tight fist down his shaft, drawing back the foreskin. He sucks firmly at the exposed head, his cheeks hollowing and vibrant eyes flicking up to gaze at Schneider’s grimacing face, peeking up past his fallen bangs.

“Fucking hell, Paul!” Schneider laughs breathlessly, watching with widened eyes and a weak grin that softens to something pleasured. Paul shifts closer on his knees, getting as close as possible to the other man. He brings his other hand in-between Schneider’s clenched thighs to cup his balls in his palm, his fingers curling up to gently press his fingernails into the sensitive skin. Schneider moans, open and genuine. The intoxication loosens his tongue, just like it strengthens his confidence.

“Oh, God,” Schneider pants, head tipping back into the messy hotel sheets. Paul is beginning to bob his head, suction still tight and unrelenting. Suddenly, it stops, though. Weakly lifting his head, Schneider looks down at the older man with a dazed expression. Licking his lips, Paul sweeps his bangs behind an ear and says with his gaze trained on Schneider’s, “I want you to hold my hair. Got it?”

Schneider nods dumbly, eyes wide. Paul goes back down on him with a lowering of his head. He easily sucks it back into his mouth. Schneider moans again—such a soft, beautiful sound that has Paul’s skin tingling. Schneider lifts a hand from the bed to rake his fingers through Paul’s long, dark locks, sweeping them back over his scalp. Paul hums around his cock, low and long and pleased. Schneider grunts and watches with grit teeth and lustful eyes as his bandmate, his closest friend really, sucks his cock with enthusiastic bobs of his head.

“Oh—“ Schneider breathes, mouth agape, eyes rolling shut. He pauses, panting heavily, and then grits out thickly, “Paul.”

His name spoken amongst Schneider’s moaning earns Paul’s pretty eyes—he watches Schneider’s flushed, slender face contort with pleasure as he pauses to nurse only at the pink head of his cock, his fingers tightening around his balls. Schneider arches his hips up, sliding his slick cock further into his mouth. Paul moans, his eyes closing. Schneider figures he likes that. He begins carefully, slowly pumping his hips, rocking his flushed shaft in and out of his mouth, between shiny pink lips that glisten with saliva. Paul grunts and pants heavily around him, his brow knitting, cheeks deepening to a darker rouge color. Schneider tightens his fingers in his hair and holds him still as he fucks his mouth.

Schneider sees him shift his body, turning it slightly for a better angle as he brings his hand down to grip himself through his black pants. Schneider watches, awed, as Paul clenches his fingers around his shaft—his black fingernails contrast prettily against the paleness of his fingers, a lovely sight when squeezing his cock. He sees the outline of his hard cock through both layers of clothing and it has him realizing Paul is still totally dressed.

“Your turn,” Schneider says gruffly, releasing his hair and moving to sit up. Paul lifts his head and looks up at him as if he were betrayed—his lips are swollen and slick, eyes confused and annoyed, cheeks red.

“I wasn’t done,” Paul protests, though he moves to sit up, too. Schneider takes a second to yank his briefs off his legs since they were never fully removed, and then reaches for him. Paul flounders a bit, taken off-guard, when Schneider grabs onto the bottom of his tight turtleneck and draws it up over his torso to peel it off of him. Paul raises his arms to allow it. The tight collar catches on Paul’s jaw—Paul bursts out laughing as Schneider struggles to get it off of him. When Schneider manages to yank it off of his head, Paul is grinning, his hair a mess.

“Like a newborn baby,” Paul jokes as Schneider throws the offending piece of clothing at the floor. Schneider is becoming as impatient as Paul was earlier; he grabs onto the waistband of Paul’s pants and doesn’t hesitate to begin yanking them down. Paul, meanwhile, is leaning over to pull off his shoes and socks, which makes it difficult. Paul huffs and says, “One thing at a time, jeez.”

Schneider waits for him to finish and then once his feet are bare, he pulls off his pants entirely, his underwear following soon after. Now they’re both totally nude, sitting together on Paul’s hotel bed. It has Schneider pausing for a second, to absorb it. Paul doesn’t need to. He immediately crawls over to the other man. Schneider stares, wide-eyed, at Paul’s hard cock as it bounces with the movement of his body. He moves to sit in his lap. Schneider is momentarily afraid Paul is going to crush his dick—his hands flinch, moving inwards to save himself, but Paul seems aware enough to angle it out of the way before getting settled. Paul’s legs wind around Schneider, his arms doing the same around his shoulders. His manicured fingers slide up into Schneider’s curly locks, hands cupping the back of his head.

“This is strange,” Schneider sputters before he could internalize it, his eyes shakily sweeping up over Paul’s naked body, pressed so intimately to his own. Paul is all thin and muscular, limbs seemingly long now that they’re wrapped around him. This close, Schneider notices [the cute freckles](https://78.media.tumblr.com/7406435932b40d59bdb3656bb54fabf5/tumblr_panhvj7BZn1rvajymo1_1280.jpg) decorating Paul’s shoulders. Paul snorts and looks at Schneider through lidded eyes, his lips curling into an amused grin.

“Y’know, I’m beginning to think girls only go after you for your looks. You’re as smooth as a cheese grater.”

“Shut up. It’s just—being naked in the same room with you isn’t a terribly common occurrence, and being naked together in an intimate, uh, arrangement like this is even rarer. So it’s just something to get used to.”

“So get used to it,” Paul remarks, waggling his eyebrows with bright, mischievous eyes and a teeth-baring grin, before he leans in and angles his head to kiss the other man. Schneider falters slightly, mouth frozen and eyes trained on Paul’s—or at least, on his eyelids. Paul shifts closer in his lap, his thighs closing tighter around Schneider’s waist. Schneider finally closes his eyes and begins to return the kiss. He sets his broad, calloused hands on Paul’s bare sides and begins to slide them up along his skin, fingers trembling slightly.

Paul is soft and warm in his lap, a solid weight, a comforting presence. It’s a little baffling to Schneider that this person wants him, this man, his _friend._ Whatever it means, though, Schneider isn’t sure. But then again, it doesn’t _have_ to mean anything. He wouldn’t put it past Paul that he’s doing this just for the sake of a fuck. Doesn’t matter who it is. He knows how expendable people can be to him.

“Give me your hand,” Paul pulls back just enough to murmur against his mouth, earning a lidded gaze from Schneider. Schneider draws his hand away from Paul’s side to press it to his belly, an invitation. Paul takes it, unfurls his fingers, and ducks his head. Schneider furrows his brow when Paul spits into his palm. Then, when Paul begins to lower it further down, Schneider understands. Paul peeks up at him past his bangs as Schneider curls his broad hand around his cock. He begins to stroke, slow and long at first. Paul’s face weakens, just slightly.

Bringing his arm around Schneider’s shoulders again, hand flattening over his broad back, Paul leans in to kiss him. He hums into it when Schneider immediately begins to return it with heavy, overlapping purses of his mouth. Paul shifts closer, huffing through his nose as he rocks his hips up into Schneider’s stroking hand while kissing him heavily. Schneider finds that incredibly hot and begins to tug at his slick cock with more enthusiasm. Paul moans against his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” Paul nearly slurs against his lips, before pulling back and meeting Schneider’s surprised gaze. Panting, Paul moves off of his lap—Schneider lets him go, confused. Paul crawls over the bed to reach the nightstand. Schneider turns to watch him, and nearly laughs at the sight of his ass, sticking out and simply asking for it. He’s tempted to spank him, if only to make him squawk, but Schneider made an ass of himself enough today. Paul yanks open the drawer to dig out the lube he stashed there previously. Then he flops against the pillows and says impatiently, “Come over here and keep me company.”

Schneider obliges and shifts closer, watching warily as Paul opens the lube and squeezes some out into his hand. He hopes Paul doesn’t expect him to do anything. The thought of sticking his fingers up Paul’s ass isn’t necessarily a hot one. Schneider doesn’t often engage in sex with other men, which is just fine with him, so he’s not keen on doing _that_ just yet. Paul seems to get it; he covers his own fingers and brings his hands between his thighs. Staring, Schneider decides, dazedly, that this is definitely preferred. Seeing Paul finger himself is much more appealing.

“Kiss me,” Paul begins, which has Schneider moving closer and leaning in. But then Paul flattens his other hand against Schneider’s chest and looks into his eyes as he says, “Here.”

Then he turns his head and points at his neck. Schneider happily obliges—he likes it when Paul leads him. Running his hand up over Paul’s soft tummy, curling it around his side, he angles his head to lean in and kiss gently at his jaw and throat. Paul hums and relaxes back into the pillows. Schneider _hears_ more than sees what Paul is doing now, as indicated by the slick sound of the lube, but that’s fine. He mouths sloppily at his throat and up along his jaw to his ear. There, he nips along the arch, and then down again to catch his earlobe between his teeth, his silver earring clicking against them. Paul moans and says thickly, “That’s good, Schneider. Like that.”

Schneider feels a punch of arousal in his belly. He likes pleasing him. He tightens his arm around him as he bites along his jaw. Paul’s hair brushes against his nose. He gently bites at his earlobe, and then makes his way up the shell of his ear, increasing pressure until Paul makes a noise. He feels him shudder uncontrollably in his embrace—must be an erogenous spot for him?

“God, okay, enough, th-this is fine,” Paul breathes, turning his head and nudging his face against Schneider’s. Their noses bump, Paul’s lips brushing across Schneider’s chin, his eyelashes tickling his cheek, before their mouths find each other. Paul hums lowly into it, his hand sliding up over Schneider’s throat to cup the side of his head, thumb resting over his ear. Schneider is so damn hard from _everything,_ he can barely control himself as he drunkenly, eagerly kisses the other man. Their lips mash together mindlessly, breaths combining and hair clinging to damp skin.

“Alright,” Paul murmurs against his chin, signifying they move on, but then goes back to kissing him heavily. Schneider is just a haze, his mind buzzing and clouding with pure lust and pleasure. He can’t focus on anything aside from making out with his closest friend. Schneider realizes he’s groaning against Paul’s mouth when Paul finally breaks away a moment later, panting heavily.

“Get between my legs and fuck me,” Paul demands, grabbing a fistful of his hair. Schneider will not protest to that. Paul presses one last firm kiss to Schneider’s swollen lips and lets him go. Then, he moves up from the pillows and changes his own position: he rests himself horizontally across the bed, head resting just on the edge. While Paul grabs the lube and squeezes more out into his hand, Schneider navigates his way around the bed to get comfortable between Paul’s legs. He stares, wide-eyed, at Paul’s flushed, dripping cock, resting stiffly on his heaving belly. He wants to taste it, have it in his mouth. Wants to see Paul wiggle and moan like he made _him_ do earlier. But a confident hand gripping his aching cock and stroking warm lube over it scatters the thought. Schneider shifts closer and moans, broad hands sweeping up over Paul’s thighs.

“Hook your hands under my knees,” Paul instructs, voice shaky and less structured, “And angle my hips up. Makes it better that way.”

Schneider nods, licking his lips. He obeys and does just that. He slides his hands up over Paul’s slender, lovely thighs to grip under his knees and push his legs up—his hips follow. Paul pants quietly underneath him, his cheeks red and mouth slightly agape. He looks pretty like this. Flushed and debauched, eyes weaker, more vulnerable. Schneider stares until Paul grips his cock in a slick hand. Then his gaze flicks down to watch him rub the head of his cock against himself.

Jesus. This is almost too much.

The image has Schneider’s entire body tensing up. Paul’s calves clench against his forearms, a silent indication for him to hurry up. Paul’s hands are busy holding his cock still—one is wound the base tightly, keeping his foreskin pulled back, the fingers of his other hand gripping the head to angle it properly against himself. Schneider can’t really believe how hot that is. He begins to arch his hips in, slowly. He watches, wide-eyed, his curly bangs clinging to his forehead with light sweat. He moans softly as the pink head of his cock eases into him. Paul’s legs tighten against Schneider’s arms—Schneider notices his toes clench.

Saying nothing, Paul just breathes quietly, his exhales occasionally hitching as he watches the other man push into him, his hands guiding the entire thing. When Schneider’s beautiful cock is half-way inside, he lets go and brings one hand up to grip his own erection, the other slipping down to cup and squeeze Schneider’s balls.

“Shit. Paul,” Schneider grunts out, his belly and thighs flexing. Paul is so damn bold, it’s too much sometimes. Paul grins, gazing up at his wide-eyed, slack-jawed face. Schneider’s dilated blue eyes sweep up over his smaller body to meet his lustful gaze. Paul doesn’t even look like he’s in pain—just that he’s enjoying it. Paul stares right back into his eyes as he continues holding him, his other hand busy, languidly pulling at his dripping cock.

Schneider manages to control his urges, until he’s pushing in all the way, his hips pressing flush against Paul’s ass. He squeezes his hands around the underside of Paul’s knees. Paul moans, his head collapsing back—it partially hangs off the side of the bed, his long locks dangling towards the floor.

Breathing heavily, chest heaving and hands squeezing tightly around Paul’s knees, Schneider begins to rock his hips. A slow pull out, and a deep roll back in. Paul moans and slurs drunkenly, head still hanging partially off the bed, “Oh, fuck yes. You feel amazing, Schneider.”

“Good,” Schneider murmurs thickly, readjusting himself on his knees, “I want you to feel good.”

“Come on, then,” Paul remarks, momentarily lifting his head to look at Schneider with a flushed, demanding expression on his boyish face. Schneider huffs a slight laugh and nods. He begins to rock his hips with more tempo, rather than just a languid back and forth. Paul gasps and watches with widened eyes.

The utterly dirty sight of his slick cock moving in and out of Paul is incredibly arousing and Schneider can only bear watching for so long. Paul is moaning again, one hand working at his cock, the other releasing Schneider’s balls to instead curl around his thigh, clutching at it tightly and holding. He feels the muscle in Schneider’s thigh flex and work as he thrusts his body against his.

“Oh, God!” Paul cries suddenly as his head cranes back off the bed again, his painted nails digging into Schneider’s pale skin. Schneider is moaning himself, his mouth agape and eyes lidded as he snaps his hips against Paul’s ass, driving into him again and again. Paul’s body jerks from the force of it. His hand momentarily stills on his flushed cock. He’s motionless and silent for a long moment, just shaking under Schneider, taking what he has to give, until he’s suddenly moaning and crying out, “Schneider! Schneider, fuck me—oh God, oh fuck!”

Schneider is too dazed and out of it, from both forms of his high, to really shush him—they’re next to Richard’s room and God knows what’s going on in there, but he’d rather not alert the others to the fact he’s fucking one of their guitarists. Paul’s shouting dies to pleasured whimpers and moans when Schneider’s hard fucking slows to a languid rolling of his hips, giving his burning thighs a reprieve. Paul’s entire body is flushed and dotted with beads of sweat. When he lifts his head to look at Schneider, his eyes weak and bottom lip between his teeth, Schneider sees how red his face is, his hair a wreck. God, he’s so debauched and it’s sexy.

“Good?” Schneider murmurs thickly with his blue eyes searching Paul’s wanton expression, a considerate question. Paul blinks, clarity forming in his eyes. He nods and slides his hand up and down over Schneider’s thigh as he says breathlessly, “Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Good,” Schneider grunts as he readjusts himself and begins to thrust with more power again. Paul’s composed expression melts away. He watches Schneider snap his hips against him again and again, his dark locks jerking from the force, his teeth clenching. Schneider’s belly flexes and rolls with the motion, his slender face lax with pleasure, his long curls clinging to his forehead and temples with sweat. Paul moans aloud, gazing up at him through lidded eyes, with his hand clutching tightly at his moving thigh.

Following each thrust, Schneider increases the strength and the pace, faster and harder, until Paul is shouting again, body jerking with every connection of their lower halves. His hand is tugging at his reddened cock, nails biting into the sweaty skin of Schneider’s thigh. Paul is moaning and whimpering Schneider’s name when he comes—his face is obscured from Schneider’s view with his head craned back like that, but he sees the way the muscles in his neck flex, the way his jaw clenches. Paul’s hand pulls sloppily, jerkily at his shaft as ropes of cum shoot out to decorate his heaving belly.

“Fuck me,” Paul gasps sharply, shaking almost violently under the other man as he continues snapping his hips against him. Schneider moans lowly, feeling him clench tight around his cock. He readjusts his hold on Paul’s legs and grits his teeth—he’s close. He rams into him a dozen more times, gaining sensitive groans from the other man, until he’s gasping and saying breathlessly, “Paul—Paul—I’m…”

That has Paul snapping his head up and watching, wide-eyed with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He raises up onto an elbow and uses the extra leverage to slide his hand up from Schneider’s thigh to squeeze his ass, edging him on as he growls playfully, “That’s it, come on, Schneider.”

With his last thrusts stuttering and shaky, Schneider jerks against Paul a few more times before stilling, hips locked against him. Paul drags his nails up from his ass, over the slope of his broad back. Schneider shudders, trembling, his eyes sweeping over Paul’s flushed body, his mouth agape and skin burning. Then his eyes roll shut, a breathless groan coming from within him. An indescribable sensation bursts in his belly. Pleasure like thunder had rolled inside of him throughout the entirety of this, and now it’s shooting like lightning under his skin. He gasps Paul’s name and rolls his hips a couple more times, trembling uncontrollably. Paul continues raking his fingernails up and down over Schneider’s clenched back.

“There you go,” Paul murmurs, stroking his fingers along the column of Schneider’s spine—it has an aroused shudder shooting throughout Schneider’s body, both from the way he said that and his intimate touch. Schneider lets out a shaky exhale and opens his eyes to look down at the other man. Paul gives him a slight smile.

Schneider drops his gaze to where they’re connected. He realizes he actually just came in the other man. Paul doesn’t seem to care. They both watch him pull out, slowly. Paul’s legs reflexively jerk in his hold—sensitive. Schneider spares Paul the embarrassment; rather than watch his semen slide out like he wants to, he peels his hands away from his sweaty legs and lets him swing his lower half to the side, giving himself some modesty.

Schneider shouldn’t have been surprised when Paul immediately pushes him down—propped up on his elbows, Schneider watches him crawl over to ultimately curl both hands around the back of his head, holding him still as he leans in to kiss him. Paul purses his lips against Schneider’s firmly a few times, which the other man gladly returns. Then Paul pulls back to search his face, continuing to hold his head in his hands.

“I don’t want to get a stomach ache, so I’m going to get up and clean you out of me,” Paul begins to say, smirking now, “But I want you to know that I really enjoyed the hell out of that.”

Schneider pauses, searching his smiling face, and then snorts.

“Considering you about screamed your head off, yeah, I kind of gathered that much.”

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
